Sateirn denotes those in a high position of authority and responsibility for more than their own specific sphere of interest, while a Luteirn is one whose primary occupation is in governance, but who is not in a position of authority.

-Titles, Ranking, and Structure of the Noble Houses

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I’d never been the recipient of a threatening letter before. It was honestly rather thrilling, while also worthy of concern. I didn’t realize such things actually happened. Though, of course, they’d have to. In a society as secretive and insular as the nobility, where even their grand gestures of peace were little but glorified chances to show off to each other, why wouldn’t threatening notes be a thing?

But still. Now I actually had one of my own.

Desten Oros had certainly done his research. I’d stopped calling myself Myen after being taken in by Reirn Ushan and Desten Varon 1. It was slightly terrifying that within less than a day of learning of my existence Desten Oros had managed to dig up something months in the past, with such accuracy.

It felt entirely plausible that he knew about my power as well.

But what could he possibly actually know? I had to think this through calmly.

No one at all knew that I’d physically witnessed Fylen’s last duel. Not killer Desten, not Pelys, not Rerin Ushan.

Reirn Ushan knew, or strongly suspected, that the power I held was Fylen’s missing childstone. But as far as I knew, he’d told no one else his suspicions.

Desten Oros couldn’t know either of those. So unless Reirn Ushan had decided to turn on me, my most important secrets remained secure. If he had decided I’d outlived my potential usefulness nothing could save me. I had to assume that wasn’t the case.

But he’d mentioned lies. That couldn’t be about my going by Varon instead of Myen; if he knew anything about me at all, he’d know that I had been living in Varon and traveling as and with Varons. It wasn’t my name that was a lie; of anything in my whole maze of deception, the Varon was the most easily verified. The reirn himself allowed, even encouraged, my use of the house name; no one outside the family could hope to gain anything by denouncing me for that.

So what could it be?

What could Desten Oros possibly know that would make him believe he could scare me off? I hadn’t grown up noble, so I had no history. No childhood indiscretions, no youthful scandals.

I couldn’t think of anything. It had to be a bluff.

He just didn’t want anyone poking around in his business. Which made me all the more eager to poke around in his business. His cousin may be innocent, but I hadn’t even seen him yet. He could very well be the Desten I’ve been after all this time. He certainly jumped on the threats without hesitation.

But if he were killer Desten, wouldn’t he have just murdered me in my sleep? Why bother making himself sound suspicious by sending vague threats against my secrecy, when he was willing to kill someone as highly ranked as Fylen? There was no way a nobody like me, even with the minor protection of the Varon house name, would give killer Desten pause.

I had to meet him in person. I was more confused by his threats the longer I thought about it, and that couldn’t be what he intended. He thought he would succeed in scaring me away, that was the clear intention. I just didn’t understand why.

I flew out to his home again, and this time when his servant told me he wasn’t home I left my card and said I’d wait.

I waited. I hung around in the area for hours in case he came home, but no one landed at his porch or balconies. The afternoon was so dull, I almost wished Pel would show up.

Almost.

The thought did motivate me to spend some time practicing my aura bubble and precise flight. The former still took nearly three seconds to activate, and the latter simply required a vast amount of practice to attain mastery over. Pel wasn’t satisfied with my progress in either discipline, but he was very demanding. Any ordinary teacher would be pleased with my progress. I imagined even Desten 1 would be impressed at least a little.

By the time Desten Oros finally showed up, night was falling. I’d eaten through all the food I’d brought along while practicing my powers. He landed in a flare of golden-orange light which disappeared at once. Beautiful control, stopping a full speed dive with such perfect precision.

“Hello, Desten?” I called.

He turned to look down at me. “Yes?” His voice had an imperious note to it, as though he were addressing an inferior.

“I’m conducting a research project into the long-term legacy of Reirn Desten Varon. Could I trouble you for an interview? I have a few questions prepared.”

His aura flickered into life. “Astesh,” he said, disdainfully. “I warned you to leave me alone.”

“Yeah, about that. I honestly have no idea what secrets you’re threatening to expose? Everyone knows my parents weren’t full line Varon, but the reirn accepted me into the family, so it’s not even a scandal.”

Desten Oros laughed. “Varon? No. You were accepted under false pretenses. If I tell the world what I know, you’ll lose any hope of maintaining your lifestyle. Your sponsorship within house Varon will disintegrate. Your allies will see you for the scheming, grubbing, out-born that you are.”

He said it as though I should be direly offended by this attempted insult. Unfortunately for him, as I grew up far from nobility, slights against my lineage had no impact on me whatsoever.

“That doesn’t matter. I didn’t come to Oros to mess with your cousin, so your threats are pointless and unnecessary. I want to interview you. What do you do, what do you care about, what are your personal ambitions?”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He frowned. “You care so little for your noble facade that you would cast it aside at a whim?”

That gives me pause. But only for a moment. “I promise, I only want to talk with you. I don’t intend any harm against you or your family.”

“The promise of a liar means little. If you leave and never return, I will not need to destroy your fragile facade.”

I didn’t want to give up, but if he refused to talk what could I do? I’d have to gather information about him from outside sources.

Or set Pel and Vess on him, let them sort it out. Apparently I’d approached things the wrong way here, somehow setting him off before we ever met.

“It might interest you to know,” Desten added almost casually, as I turned to leave, “there’s a commoner woman raising quite a fuss in Sarosa. Something about her missing child, whose description seems to match yours perfectly. I wonder where a commoner would get such a fanciful notion.”

I froze, power tingling on the edge of readiness. Mother. Of course she was stubbornly searching for me. I’d gone weeks without checking in on her before, but never so many months. She must be worried dreadfully. Why didn’t I think she might investigate Midpeak? She’d have found my office closed, no sign of me for half a year.

And Desten Oros had found her.

“Leave my family alone,” he said again, “and I’ll leave yours alone.” With that, he turned and entered his home, leaving me standing stunned in the street.

I couldn’t tell if it was him. It shouldn’t be. I wanted to rule him out. His hair was neatly trimmed to around the vicinity of his ears, shorter than any of the other Destens still in consideration. His power was amber-orange, rather than pure yellow. But, it was possible to cut one’s hair. And his orange power might look yellow if seen through a red filter like the barrier that had protected the forest from Fylen and killer Desten’s duel.

I hated having no feel of who he was. Unless being willing to threaten my mother so I’d back off counted.

Pink lightning played across my hands. No one threatened my mother. She may be stubborn and embarrassing and not know what’s good for her, but she’s also the most wonderful, caring person I’ve ever known. She didn’t know anything about the mess that my life had become, and I would not allow my mistakes to hurt her.

Not Desten Oros, not killer Desten, not Reirn Ushan. No one would touch my mother.

But how could I protect her without endangering everything I’d built here? If I took her to Pelys or Desten 3 for safekeeping, they’d surely want to know why I was guarding some no-account commoner. After all, I’d insisted my own parents were dead. Could I pass her off as my older sister? I’d have to convince her to lie about herself too, and something told me she wouldn’t be as concerned with maintaining her facade as I was.

For the first time, I stopped to consider exactly how vast the difference was between her and myself now. I could cross the continent in less than a day; she’d have to travel for weeks to traverse the same distance. And so could any other noble. There was no distance that could protect her. I couldn’t entrust her safety to anyone in the nobility without compromising her own.

So maybe I’d follow Trancy’s example. I could move her somewhere inconspicuous, away from any cities, and let obscurity do the job of concealment.

Assuming she lets me.

Urhhh. Mother is stubborn. I just know the moment I get near her, she’ll not give up until she has the whole story out of me. And I honestly couldn’t imagine whether she’ be willing to go along with it, or insist I come into hiding too.

Would it be possible to do that?

I could always run away. Leaving aside the crushing guilt of destroying the Sarosa reirn line, and of Fyless growing up powerless as well as fatherless; leaving aside all the Destens and their potential murderousness, if my stupidity got my mother hurt, I’d never forgive myself.

It may already be too late. I should have gone into hiding immediately, instead of trying to find a way to live with this power. Of course, without Desten 1 helping me restrain it and Pelys teaching me to use it, my power would probably still be constantly glowing like I had at the beginning.

I glanced down at my hand. The faint light running through my veins was hardly visible any longer, now that I could exert active control over the power. If I focused, I could withdraw it almost completely, but it didn’t like being held in and I could never maintain complete control over it long enough to pretend to still be a commoner. I may not light up a room like a bonfire any more, but I’d still look off just enough to never fit in.

It always came back to this. My old life was over. And maybe it would be for the best if I cut all ties with my past.

If I never acknowledged my mother’s search, if I let her believe I was dead, then she’d go back to her quiet existence and disappear from the notice of the nobility. If I refused to engage with Desten Oros and his threats, maybe he’d realize that I wasn’t a threat to his family.

I couldn’t decide. The question tore at my heart. Either way, part of myself would be lost. It was one thing to go off and ignore my family ties when I could imagine that no one really noticed, but now that she was making enough of a ruckus that even another house entirely took notice, I couldn’t ignore the question.

If I couldn’t go back, how would I choose to move forward?

Who did I want to become?

And yet … I could not make the choice. How could I abandon my only family? Even if she didn’t really rely on me, insisted she would be fine without my help, would that always be the truth? Could I just walk away and leave her to fend for herself, even as she grew older and weaker and less able to do so?

But how could I drag her into the nobility’s schemes? I would not allow my enemies to use her as a weapon against me. I’d rather abandon any attempt at deception and throw myself at Reirn Ushan’s mercy than be the cause of her ruin.

Which, I supposed, was exactly what Desten Oros was counting on. Turned out he had found a threat to use against me after all.

I might have been able to interrogate his neighbors, or at least observe his comings and goings, but I had no heart for it. I flew back to my apartment, distracted enough I nearly caused a midair pileup when I accidentally dropped too low. Even that wasn’t enough to break me out of my mood.

Here I was, at the end of the list. One Desten left, and I still didn’t know enough about any of them. I’d come all this way, put in so much effort, and what did I have to show for it in the end? It could be any of them. Sure, I eliminated a handful of the obvious ones, but when it came right down to it, I’d learned nothing that mattered.

Desten 1 could have done it. Desten 3 could have. Or Desten 5, or 6 - easily 6 - or Oros. It might be 7. Or it might just as well be someone whose name just sounded passably close to Desten and lived in Teshron or something. I’d spent so much time, so much of everyone else’s resources, and for what?

In the end, I’m just a fool. A scribe who read a few too many heroic stories, written a few too many epics, and thought I could do the impossible. Even with everyone who’s helped me, even with all the incredibly fortunate coincidences that played out in my favor, it can’t make up for me only being me.

I didn’t stop when I reached the apartment district. I kept going, higher and faster, as my mind chased itself around in darker and emptier circles. The sky dimmed toward evening as I flew on.

Who did I think I was?

I was nobody. One stupid coincidence, and my life was over. I was dead the moment I touched the childstone. I just hadn’t been willing to admit it. Why keep trying to prolong the inevitable? Why drag anyone else down with me?

I wasn’t sure exactly what I would do, as I flew faster still, north and west toward the familiar Sarosa heartlands. But I was done pretending. I’d gone too far. I’d been so caught up in the moment, every moment building on itself and those behind, that I hadn’t seen how far I’d lost my way.

I passed Midpeak and continued north until the gleam of Northpoint glowed on the horizon, reflecting off the endless ocean beyond, the light growing stronger and clearer every second.

It was time to end this.

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